


The Journalist

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Child Niall, Drugs, Hospitalization, Kidfic, Niall-centric, Teen Niall, lilo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then all that's left is me, Niall. I have my dyed hair and watery eyes. I'm not the smartest, or the most creative or the most practical. I'm just me, the aspiring journalist who's trying to get this internship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I was probably about fourteen when I decided what I truly wanted to do with my life. It was a cold winters morning and snowflakes drifted slowly outside of my window pane. I had slowly made my way downstairs to make myself a cup of tea while my parents, my older brother Harry and younger brother Zayn were still in bed when my eyes were drawn to the newspaper on the granite kitchen counter. When I picked it up and started reading as I turned on the kettle, I was shocked by what I read. There was an article written by this young journalist called Matt Curtis, and he wrote about going undercover in a mental health hospital to find out with the story was with all the suicides that had been going on in the hospital. It turned out that a nurse had been killing a lot of the patients and she framed them in such a way that it looked like the poor patients had committed suicide. Matt nearly ended up being killed himself while investigating, but luckily just received minor injuries. It was that reporter, that journalist that inspired me to get into English, to start writing reports.

That is why I'm here today, at an internship at a newspaper company, interviewing for an internship at the tender age of sixteen. I was reading this very paper last week when I saw an article in it saying they were looking for interns. The only problem is that they have to be seventeen and over, but I'm sure I'll pass for that. That may also have contributed to the reason that I didn't tell my dads that I was coming here today. The other part of the reason was that I never told my dads about my passion, never told them about how I had found that newspaper the snowy morning, never told them why English was my best subject, that I was trying so hard in it because that is what I want to do, that's my goal in life.

The only person I have ever told about my dreams, my future if all goes well, is my older brother, Harry. Harry is nineteen and he's off at college at the moment, studying to be a primary school teacher of all things. It makes sense though, he has that black, curly hair and piercing green eyes that can be soft and gentle at one moment and blazing with anger the next, and you just have to admit everything to him, all your confessions and biggest secrets. That's mostly the reason he found out about this. We were sitting in my room last Christmas Eve, him handing me a present and myself handing one back when I suddenly felt the need to tell him everything. He was so supportive, telling me to go for it, to follow my dreams and never look back (as he put the cliché into it).

My dads used to really get Harry, Harry was the smart one, the one whom I could never live up to. My dads nearly always used to put him up on a pedalstool (unintentionally of course), and it's no surprise really. I mean, when you have a genius for a son who gets straight As with even trying, you're going to praise him a little, okay, a lot more then necessary. My dad Liam was so upset when Harry decided not to go off and do amazing things like be a doctor or lawyer or something that he didn't even talk to him for a week. Harry just replied with 'I want to help children make a future for themselves when their wealth cannot'. Understandable, considering the fact that Harry was in his foster home for several years after his parents died in a car accident and the home really didn't have enough money to sustain any of their monthly clothes allowance, never mind pay for something as expensive as college. My dads decided to adopt him when he was nine, the first and smartest one in our home.

If I'm doing this whole 'describing' cliché thing, I suppose next is my younger brother Zayn, who is only eleven, but he's so artistically brilliant that he has already won several competitions in our region. He has black hair too, and brown eyes that have flecks of gold and amber shimmering around in them. I know I'm his brother and all, but even I have to say that he is definitely one of the most beautiful children you could set your eyes on. People stop us in the street just to gawk and stare at him and he always wins if there is a costume day, as my parents dress him up like the Greek god that he is.

He came into our family at the age of four, he was a shy, quiet child. He grew up in a foster home as he Mom had left him there on the doorstep when he was a baby, leaving only a note and a tattered teddy bear to keep him company. He still is quite quiet, but he's come out of his shell so much since then, and has even started singing. He's really exceptional at it and our Papa, Louis, says as soon as Zayn as seventeen, he's going onto the X-Factor, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

My papa Louis had always been quite....energetic. He's more like a child then any of us children really, and he's also enthusiastic and supportive. He works as a manager in a children's TV show called 'Upsy-Daisy Daisy'. It's about this clumsy flower who is always getting herself into some type of trouble. Papa really seems to enjoy and his favourite part is he can work from home. He's a really protective father and he loves to be really involved in our lives which is why Harry was surprised when I told him that he was the only one who knew about my obsession with journalism.

They say opposites attract and that must be true, as my dad Liam is literally the opposite of Papa. He's stern, calm and he works quite a lot. He works at a large business firm and is away from home often. Don't get me wrong, he still loves us and everything, it's just he's more....distant. He's more of a practical father then an affectionate one.

Then all that's left is me, Niall. I have my dyed hair and watery eyes. I'm not the smartest, or the most creative or the most practical. I'm just me, the aspiring journalist who's trying to get this internship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mr. Payne?" I quickly jerked around, jumping two feet in the air. The voice was male, clear and solid and it belonged to a clean-cut man with a shaven face and slick black hair

"Mr. Niall Payne?" 

I stood up as a curly, red-haired short woman came out of the door of an office. I grabbed my tattered brown office bag and walked briskly over to the woman.

"Right through there." She said, chewing on a piece of gum loudly. She looked at me boredly so I quickly snuck past her to get into the office. I shut the door rapidly behind me, breathing heavily. I really wasn't sure whether or not I was ready for this just by that woman. 

"Mr. Payne?" I quickly jerked around, jumping two feet in the air. The voice was male, clear and solid and it belonged to a clean-cut man with a shaven face and slick black hair. 

"Sorry." I stammered, taking a seat in a wiry chair. "I'm just..it's my....I'm not good at this."

He laughed falsely, a high pitched thing that reminding me of something I couldn't quite put my finger from. "It's quite alright Mister Payne, or may I call you Niall? I'm Jack by the way."

"Niall's fine." I waved him off, handing him my résumé. "Do you want to read this now, or shall I just....." The man laughed once again, taking my CV in his hands and scanning over it briefly.

"Really Mr. Payne? You, and I quote 'You skydived with Miley Cyrus for charity'?"

"If you haven't noticed, I'm also not good at lying on my résumé."

"It says here you're adopted. Is that true, or is that just another 'interesting' comment you wanted to add some exciting to your dreary life."

"No, it's true sir! I only lied slightly about my job experiences."

"So let me get this straight Niall. You want this internship, yet you don't have any experience doing journalism of any sort?" The man asked, chewing on the black lid on top of his pen. 

"Yes sir."

"Listen kid, I like your passion and your spunk, so I'll give you a chance. How about I give you an assignment and if you can write a juicy 2000 words, I'll give you an internship, okay?" The man asked me, and as he continued talking I was getting more excited until finally, I burst into tirades of gratitude. 

"You won't regret it sir!" I said, shaking his hand rapidly. 

"Alright Niall." He started as I sat back down again. "So, how about you write me a report on drug abuse for Tuesday?"

I was a little worried when I heard this, I had never experienced any sort of drug usage before, or know anyone how did so this was going to mean a lot of research. Despite this though, I nodded, shook hands with Jack before grabbing my bag and walking back out of the door. 

"I assume we won't be seeing you again?" The woman at the desk asked as I passed her. 

"Actually," I started, putting on a haughty stance "I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday ma'am." Then I ambled away slowly, keeping my composure before I finally got outside and whooped with joy. 

"Yes!" I screamed, pumping my fist as I waited outside for my best friend Josh to come and collect me. Josh is seventeen, and in the year above me at school but we hit it off when he met in music. 

I typed out quick text, telling him that I was finished but he was already pulled up in his Ford before I could hit send. 

"How did you know I was here?" I asked, shivering slightly as the cold chilled my bare arms, my shoulders just about covered by my black top. 

"Woman's intuition my dear Nialler." Josh laughed, slapping me lightly on the back. "So how did the interview go?"

"Oh Josh it was incredible! I have to write a report on drug abuse and if Jack, that's the guy who's like the boss, likes it, he'll consider me for an internship!" 

"So I guess you'll be telling your parents now?"

"Oh, I dunno Josh." I said, biting my lip slightly, "I think I'll wait and see if I can get a job first, then I'll tell them."

"Whatever you think Nialler." Josh rolled down the window and took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a quick suck before exhaling joyfully. "Now that hits the spot."

"Do you know how bad for your health that is?" I said drolly as Josh puffed out a cloud of smoke once agin. 

"Do you know how much I don't care?" He said, mimicking my accent humorously. 

"Shut up you bugger!" I squealed (manly of course) before Josh pulled up outside my house. 

"Thanks for the lift you mad fecker!" I yelled, running into my house.

"Hi baby." Papa said, kissing my forehead as I walked in through the wooden door. "Where have you been for the last hour?" 

"Just hanging out with Josh." I lied smoothly, then decided to change the subject. "Where are Dad and Zayn?"

"Oh, Zayn had this art workshop to go to so your father said he'd go to do the groceries and pick up Zayn. They should be back in about ten, fifteen minutes." 

I nodded my head before informing my father that I was going up to my room to do some research for a school project. I wasn't exactly lying per say, just bending the truth a small bit. I grabbed my laptop and placed it on my desk, booting it up quickly, anxious to get started on this. 

I really wanted that internship.

It was about twenty minutes later when I heard the door slam and light footsteps making their way upstairs. Zayn ran into our shared bedroom and closed the door rapidly. 

"You've got to help me Ni."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I, um, don't be mad, but I did something and you aren't going to like it." He raised an eyebrow, looking at me quizzically.
> 
> "You what?" He yelled, stepping back from me, pale blue eyes staring into mine. "How on earth did you do that

"You've gotta help me Niall."

"What's up Zee?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion.

"I-I did something bad, Dad's going to kill me. Like, literally kill me."

"Zayn, you know your Dad's favourite, there is no way he could ever even think about killing you." And it's true really. Even though Dad's all calculating and all about figures, little artsy Zayn is his favourite. On the other hand, while Papa is really fun and full of life, it's blatantly obvious that he really loves Harry the most.

Me? I like to think I'm Uncle Ed's favourite. Ed's one of those people who aren't actually family, but are more like relations to us then our actual relations. He's really musical, and he's super good at playing guitar. I like to think I'm his favourite, because he's the person I grew up closest to.

"C'mon Zee, tell me what you did."

"I, I scratched the car. The new one." Zayn said, biting his trembling lip as to stop it from shaking so hard. 

"Shit Zayn! How on earth did you do that?" I hissed, knowing full well that if I didn't I would erupt. 

"I didn't realise how close the car was to the garage door and when taking out my bike it got scratched. Like, big time." Zayn said guilty, not looking me in the eye.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, unsure of what the next step could be. As far as I could tell I had three options; I could tell Zayn to tell Dads the truth, I could help Zayn cover up the damage but that would only delay the punishment or finally, I could tell Dads it was me.

"Niall, I'm in big trouble." Zayn said, tears prickling his eyes as he looked up at me. I looked at him, his small body enveloped in a cashmere jumper that was two time to big for him. It was the jumper Harry had bought Zayn for Christmas and Zayn had wore it every day he could. He only ever took it off when Dad made him put it in the wash and wear something else. In that split second I knew what I had to do. I had to be a good big brother. 

Like Harry.

"It'll be fine Zee. Just go to your room and I'll sort it out, okay?" Zayn nodded before racing into his small blue bedroom and shutting the door rapidly behind him.

I inhaled deeply before making my way down the wooden stairs and tapped my Papa on the shoulder from over the banister. I then walked down the rest of the stairs and he turned around, smiling at me happily. 

"You okay Nialler?" He asked, ruffling my dyed blonde hair and winking at me.

"I'm fine Da." I said quietly, worry consuming me from the inside out.

"Well, what can I do for you then?"

"I, um, don't be mad, but I did something and you aren't going to like it." He raised an eyebrow, looking at me quizzically. "I scratched the car."

"You what?" He yelled, stepping back from me, pale blue eyes staring into mine. "How on earth did you do that?"

"I thought I'd be able to drive it, just up and down the street, but I scratched it on something and.....yea." I said dejectedly, looking guiltily at my father.

"You know you aren't allowed to drive until your seventeen! This is unacceptable Niall. You're grounded! Two weeks, no less." Papa screamed, pacing furiously. "You just wait until your father come home Ni. J-just go to your room." I nodded and ran up to my room, blinking rapidly to stop the build up of tears before sitting at the small white desk in my room before folding my arms and putting my head in them. 

I heard a small knock on my door a few minutes later, and popping my head up, I dryly said come in.

"D-did everything go okay?" Zayn then. I nodded, putting a false smile onto my face. 

"Are you in trouble?" He asked, peering at my slightly red eyes. "Did Papa yell at you?"

"Yes Zayn!" I exclaimed, slightly louder than intended. "Now could you please just leave me alone?"

"Sorry." Zayn whispered, leaving the room quickly. I groaned and put my head in my hands again before deciding to take out my laptop and start looking up some research. 

'Scientists think that all addictive drugs activate the brain's 'reward system', by increasing the release of the chemical dopamine from neurons in key areas of the brain. Dopamine release occurs after pleasurable experiences, for example after food or sex, but can also be induced by some drugs.' I typed, after a few minutes of intensive research before deleting it all. It wasn't personal enough, not right. It was too.....structured. I shut down my laptop, groaning again before standing up from my desk and flopping down on my bed. However, just as I did so, I heard Dad shouting my name from downstairs.

I quickly got up and bounded down the stairs to our kitchen, where Papa was sitting at the table, looking at me sadly while Dad stood at the counter, glaring at my angrily. 

"What," he started, pausing to inhale deeply, "What in the name of God made you feel like this was a good idea?"

"I-I don't know." I whispered. "I just, I just thought I should." 

"You just thought you should?!" Dad screamed, yelling at me so loud that even Papa flinched. 

"I'm nothing but a pain to you, huh, Dad? Nothing I do ever satisfies you. Since I'm such a burden to you all the time, why don't you just throw me in a boys' home now?" I yelled, my emotions getting the better of me. 

"Sometimes I want to. You're never using your head, and what with you slacking off in math and history, sometimes I just don't know what to do with you anymore Niall!" I could tell that Dad regretted it the minute he stopped talking but I just couldn't do it, so I ran out of the house as fast as I could.


End file.
